Alright folks, buckle up ’cause today was wild – literally. Got bit hard by the rodeo bug recently, decided I wasn’t just gonna watch anymore. Wanted to actually ride, you know? But man, learning to stay on a bull? Figured I needed a shortcut. So I went digging, found some “essential tricks” promising faster mastery. Here’s how it played out step-by-step:
The Gear-Up & First Tries
First thing I did? Hit the practice pen. No actual bulls involved yet, thank god. Started with this mechanical bull rig they got at the local ranch. Looked simple enough. Strapped on my borrowed helmet and vest – felt bulky but safer. The instructor pointed at the rig: “Just grip the rope like your life depends on it, kid.” Easy enough? Nope.
Clambered on top, settled in awkwardly. Hit the start button. Thing kicked off slow, a gentle rock. Threw me right off in three seconds. Flat on the padded floor. Laughed at myself, got back on. Second try? Held for maybe five seconds before the spinning tossed me sideways. My ego took a bigger hit than my backside. Realized real quick: this rope grip ain’t just squeezing.
- Focus Point: Kept forgetting to fix my eyes straight ahead. My head wobbled like crazy, pulling my balance off. Gotta find a spot on the wall and glue to it.
- Legs Went Dead: Thought stiff knees would help me anchor. Wrong. Just made me bounce around like a sack of potatoes. Need way looser legs, more like springs.
- The Spill: Fell sideways every single time. Clearly leaning too much into the spin instead of against it.
Adjusting On-the-Fly & Tiny Victories
Okay, bruised pride and sore ribs. Time to actually use those “tricks” I read about. Took a breather, replayed what the smarter folks said.
Third attempt: Changed my stance completely.
- Instead of clamping knees tight, let ’em bend deep. Gripped the sides of the rig with my lower legs like I was trying to hold onto a greased pig. That actually started to anchor me better.
- Forced my eyes dead ahead on a bright orange sticker on the wall – didn’t let ’em dart around. World spun slower somehow.
- Leaned the opposite way I instinctively wanted to lean when it started twisting.
Suddenly, the timer beeped… I lasted eight seconds! Didn’t even fall off when it stopped – just wobbled off gracefully (well, sorta). Massive difference. Did it again. Managed a shaky 9 seconds! Seriously felt like a win.
The “Real” Feel & Hard Reality
Confidence up, I convinced the instructor to let me try a bigger motor setting. Mistake? Maybe. This wasn’t just rocking anymore; it was bucking, twisting, kicking hard. First go: lasted maybe 2 seconds. Got thrown clear across the mat. Stung like hell. Second go: focused HARD. Eyes locked, legs loose and gripping, leaning against the spin. Felt slightly more in control… lasted a whopping 6 seconds. Not great, but didn’t die.
Took that energy to the small, super experienced practice bull they had – a smaller, less crazy animal. Climbed the chute, heart hammering. Settled on, rope gripped like a maniac. Chute opened… Everything happened blindingly fast. One huge jump-buck-twist combo and I was launched. Didn’t even count to two. Landed hard, rolled. Woke up tasting dust. Definitely sobering.
Where I’m At Now
So, did those tricks “master bull riding faster”? Eh, not mastered by a long shot. Not even close. That last fall was a gut punch. BUT, did they help me understand WAY faster? Heck yes. My time on the machine jumped quick once I applied ’em. Learned what it should feel like: loose legs anchoring, locked eyes calming the spin, leaning deliberately counter-intuitive.
The muscle memory? Still needs years. The courage? Takes a beating every fall. The thrill? Addicting enough to crawl back up every time. It’s brutal, ridiculous, and I can barely sit down now. But yeah, those “essential tricks”? They cut out months of flailing blindly. Now it’s just about falling smarter until the falls finally stop.